Dangerous Games
by Alexia Mae
Summary: Bella was born a slave and works for her dangerous master, who is involved in a world much darker that she could have ever imagined. will the danger bring them together or tear her away from him. BxE eventually. mature content in places


For a slave, my life was pretty easy. I mean, yes I got up at the crack of dawn and worked hard all day long, and yes my life wasn't my own, and yes I had absolutely no recollection of my life before slavery. But I know of slaves who are much worse off.

My name is Isabella Swan, and am one of two slaves in my master's cold Victorian style home in Fawkes. The other slave is called Joe, and is in his late 50s and has worked for our master since his birth. His duties are mainly outdoors and mechanics, whereas I do all the cooking, cleaning and laundry. Each of us has our own bedroom either side of the basement kitchen and although they are small, they are furnished and private. Joe is the closest thing I've ever had to a father figure and though he is sometimes short and strict, I know he's doing it in my best interests to keep me out of trouble with the Master. Another of Master's slaves was Joe's wife (for all intent and purpose) and had mothered me when I was younger and taught me everything I know. She died when I was six from pneumonia, leaving Joe and I without her beaming smile. The master never hired a new housekeeper, believing I was capable to assume her old duties, as well as mine.

The Master's word was law in this house. As a perfectionist, all of our work had to be completed to the upmost standard in the specified time or horrible consequences would follow. Consequences, I am sorry to say, that I have experienced a few times in my life. Fortunately I am a quick learner and learnt to stay out of the Master's way as much as possible. It was fairly easy for the most part as his work meant he was away for most of the week, and worked late hours. However his job appeared to be stressful, he often came home and drank bottles of Jack Daniels or Grey Goose like it was cherry-coke! They were the nights it was most important to behave and stay out of his way. I had a bottle thrown at me simply for being in the same room as him.

My routine was simple and ritualistic. Up at 6.30am, breakfast on the dining room table with a pot of hot coffee for the Master at 7am, after which he would leave, wordlessly for the days work. I would then clear the table, wash up and start chores for the day which ranged from laundry to cleaning the bathrooms or bedrooms. Joe and I would stop for a light lunch at one o'clock which I would make, sandwiches in the summer, soup in the winter. In the afternoon I would clean the main rooms of the house, including the living room, large open plan foyer, the music room and my master's bedroom. The Master's bedroom was the worst. He was terribly untidy, dropping clothes on the floor where he took them off (then again, who needs to be tidy when you have a slave?), books were strewn all over the floor, amongst weights (which I had to roll into place due to my weakness, sometimes I wondered if he left them there on purpose). His bed would always be unmade and I sometimes went in to find a naked, beautiful woman amongst the sheets. It was never the same one. By late afternoon the house was usually presentable, and I would be able to start preparing the evening meal. I liked cooking, and was good at it, so it was never too much of a hassle. I would plate one portion up and set it on the dining table, where the Master would dine alone when he came home at 7.30p, if he came home. Often he wouldn't make it in time for dinner, and wouldn't have informed either Joe or I (because he assumes we're psychic!). By the time he returns, the meal, cold and ruined, would be in the bin and I'd be woken from my slumber by Master yelling for food from upstairs. God help him if he ever made toast himself! Saying that, I'm not entirely sure if he had ever been in the basement of the house where Joe and I lived. We weren't entirely sure what it was that the Master did. He had plenty of money and power that was for sure, but his profession was not obvious. Joe thought maybe he was a doctor. I disagreed; the cruelty he showed us could not just be turned off. I joked that he was part of a gang. The Master expected silence from his slaves unless asked a question, and then if we replied, we must do so with the utmost respect and politeness. Approximately half the words I had ever muttered to my tall, well built, lean looking Master with looks that could intimidate a lion, was "Yes sir" or "No Master". I could go days without speaking aloud, especially if Joe was busy or in one of his moods.

The Master had been in a foul mood when he left for work this morning, I was late with his coffee as the plug blew a fuse and Joe took his time fixing it. He had gotten in from work in the middle of the night and must have only had a few hours sleep.

"Where is my coffee girl?" He demanded, slamming his hand on the table as I placed the plate of breakfast before him.

"I'm sorry. It's just brewing now sir, I'll go get it sir." I muttered quietly rushing off to pour it out. I brought it back moments later to see he had only taken two bites of toast. Handing the cup over I watched him drain the cup in seconds before thrusting it back in my hands.

Without a word of gratitude he pushed his chair out from under the table and headed out of the dining room, calling after him, "My coat Isabella, unless you wish for me to freeze."

I held back from the several responses that immediately sprang to mind, preferring to live than be beaten half to death, and grabbed his expensive black coat from the coat cupboard. I took it to him and held his extremely heavy briefcase whilst he slipped the coat over his well-muscled shoulders. I glanced up to look at him. There were dark circles around his blood shot eyes. I crumpled my brow, worried about him, mainly for selfish purposes…if he was tired, he was more easily irritated, and I was therefore more likely to get a beating. He caught my eye and I bowed my head immediately, knowing he thought it rude for a slave to look their master in the eye. He took the briefcase off e with a "Hmph" and departed, slamming the door loudly, making me jump.

I breathed a sigh of relief and skipped down the stairs to the basement, where Joe was fiddling with the plug of the coffee machine still.

"He's not slept again" I stated, hopping onto the work top.

"And why is that any of your business?" Joe replied, eyes never leaving the plug.

"It's not, I'm just saying. He looks kind of stressed out."

Joe sighed. "He's always stressed. Leave it child or you'll get into trouble."

"Me? Trouble?" I said sliding off the work top and filling the sink with water.

"You attract trouble like a moth to a flame, its just my quick thinking that stops the Master beating you black and blue" he pointed a finger at me. I laughed, nodding, and continued with my work.

Xxxxxxxxx

Later that evening, I took my Master's dinner of home-made lasagne up to the dining room before returning back down to the kitchen to serve myself and Joe a portion each. We'd both had a long and tiring day. The washing machine had broken during a load, so I'd had to wash all the laundry by hand. Joe found rot on the garden shed and had been attempting to prevent further damage. We ate in silence, not an uncommon occurrence for us. The house was silent, the Master hadn't returned yet. I ate, lazily, with one elbow on the table, my head resting on my hand. I sighed and was about to ask Joe if he wanted any more food when we heard a loud crash from upstairs which caused us both to jump and stand up.

"What in the world?" I asked staring at the ceiling.

"He's probably drunk again" Joe said sounding exhausted, "I better go haul him up to bed."

"Need a hand?" I asked

Joe shook his head, "You'll only piss him off more. I'll sort it, you finish up!" he left the kitchen and climbed the stairs.

I looked at my half eaten lasagne and suddenly felt very full, so I threw the remainder into the trash can and began doing the washing up. There was a window in the basement, above the sink from which I could look out into the Master's beautifully sculptured (by Joe) garden. Mid-way through washing up, I heard a loud bang, like a door slamming and then Joe's descent down the stairs.

"Is he ok?" I asked without turning round.

I heard no response, but a small clicking noise. Confused, I turned around, soap suds dripping down my small hands. I stopped. I stood very still and held my breath, eyes never moving from the sight in front of me.

A man dressed all in black stood poised in front of me, pistol loaded and aimed at my forehead.

"Hello little girl!" He said slowly, darkly. I was unable to move, let alone speak. "Fancy meeting you down here, all alone…."

"W-where's Joe?" I asked, beginning to tremble.

"Upstairs, with a bullet in him" the man replied, not moving a muscle, gun still aimed at me.

I let out a sob and clutched my chest. The man took a step closer to me. "If you don't want to end up the same was as your friend upstairs, I suggest you do everything I say!" He was still coming closer to me. My breathing was laboured, I was nearly hyperventilating. I noticed the man's focus waver, looking towards my bedroom. When his gain returned to me, his eyes clouded over and he looked even eviller. "Why don't we go into your bedroom? Get a little comfier?"

I shook my head, biting my lip.

"No? I don't think that you are in any position to say no to me. Do you?" He was right in front of me now, the barrel of the gun rested in the centre of my forehead. "Now MOVE" he yelled and shoved me with a strong, gloved hand towards my bedroom.

I whimpered and moved, never having felt this scared before. Upon entering my tiny room, the man put his gun on the floor and pushed me onto the bed where I slammed my head against the wall. He licked his lips. I scurried towards the headboard and screamed, attempting to push him away. He grabbed the shoulder of my dress and tore it, exposing my chest to him.

"NO!" I screamed. "Master! Master help! AGGGH!" I yelled kicking and screaming, tears rolling down my cheek. Despite my screaming for my master and my thrashing about the man was stronger than me and pinned me down.

"I'd say don't worry, it wont hurt….but it will!" He laughed darkly.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight, resigned to my faint. My throat was sore, but I managed to yell for my Master weakly, one last time.

I felt the hem of my dress being pulled up. Suddenly there was a loud bang and his weight was on top of me, spread eagled and unmoving. I screamed, still not opening my eyes. He was suddenly lifted off me, enabling air back into my lungs. I took a deep breath and coughed. I struggled to sit up, forcing myself into the corner of the bed, still shaking.

"Isabella, are you ok?" I heard my master's voice ask, gently.

I looked up to see his face wearing an expression I had never seen before, compassion and concern. "Are you ok god-damnit answer me!" I nodded hurriedly, tears forming in my eyes.

"Good" he said, patting me on the head. I whimpered away from his touch, it was sore where I'd banged my head earlier. "Sorry" he said as I flinched. I froze at the word 'sorry'. I'd never heard him utter any kind of apology before, let alone address one for me.

"H-h-how's Joe?" I asked so quietly I could barely hear myself. I feared the worst.

"He's alive, he was shot through the leg. He's upstairs on the couch." He told me, sitting on the bed beside me. I suddenly felt a rush of emotion, fear, guilt, relief that Joe was alive, and thankfulness, that my Master had saved me. I felt so much emotion that for reasons unknown, I let out a cry and threw my self into his strong arms. I curled up into a ball on his lap, clinging onto his neck whilst crying into his shoulder.

To my (and his) surprise, he wrapped one arm around me, and used the other to stroke my hair. It was only for a second, but it was all I needed to calm me down. I slid off his lap and onto the floor in front of him. Keeping my head bowed, I attempted to control my breathing. He waited patiently. When I was composed I spoke quietly, thanking him the best I could. He hushed me, not wanting to hear it.

"The house is clear. Go and take Joe some water. I'll deal with….this" he said nodding towards the dead body on my bedroom floor. Immediately I rose and ran upstairs.

I poked my head round the door to the living room to see Joe sprawled out on the couch, leg elevated.

"Joe!" I gasped running into the room and kneeling by his head. "Are you ok?"

"No I was bloody shot!" He snapped. I couldn't help but smile a little. I helped him sip down some water.

"Who were they?" I whispered.

"Very bad men." My master's voice boomed from behind, startling me. "They want me dead. Even more so now that I've killed some of them. We need to get out of this house, out of this town. All of us." I nodded, slowly unmoving from my vigil beside my old friend. "Girl you go get towels and any medical supplies you can find and put them in the car."

A few minutes later the Master and I had Joe between us, helping him limp to the car. We laid him as comfortably as we could in the back seat of the Volvo. The master then ushered me around the car and into the front passenger seat. Getting in the drivers seat, he put on his seatbelt and looked at me, struggling with mine. "For gods sake" he snapped, causing me to let go of the belt altogether. "Haven't you ever done this before?" When I shook my head in response, he must have remembered I'd never been in the car before, so sympathetically leant desperately close to me to buckle me in. His head of brown hair was so close to me I could smell his shampoo. He smelt amazing. I bit my lip and stared straight ahead, blushing , when I realised that my dress was still torn, and my chest was exposed to him. He finished sorting my seat belt out and reversed the car. I clutched the two parts of my dress together, mortified. We all sat in silence in the car. I contemplated what had just happened.


End file.
